


Already Know What I Am.

by cherryvanilla



Series: Yuletide Assignments and Treats [11]
Category: Toy Story Series (Movies)
Genre: Coming of Age, Growing Up, M/M, Morning After, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For his thirtieth birthday, Sid invites a ton of people to his club. Andy Davis isn’t one of them.  So how he wakes up with not only a killer headache and cotton mouth but also looking into blue, blue eyes that he hasn’t seen in well over a decade is anyone’s guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Already Know What I Am.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elyssblair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyssblair/gifts).



> Thanks to Lisa for audiencing and Laria and Aleesha for beta. 
> 
> Title by Brand New. This was nearly called 'the boy who blocked his own shot' but I figured it would completely give away my identity.

For his thirtieth birthday, Sid invites a ton of people to his club. Andy Davis isn’t one of them. So how he wakes up with not only a killer headache and cotton mouth but also looking into blue, blue eyes that he hasn’t seen in well over a decade is anyone’s guess.  
________________________

Sid made a lot of contacts on his garbage route, surprisingly: the businessmen who would be up early, nodding to him over their morning coffees, _The Wall Street Journal_ tucked against their briefcases as they shared the latest stock tips; the homemakers who’d smile and try to get him to buy some Avon products for the special girl in his life, Sid smiling sharply when he’d tell them he was gay but thanks anyway, enjoying the looks in response and smirking when, weeks later, they’d give him the catalog to their passion parties; the old folks who’d ask him if he’d help advertise yard sales and then give him a cut of the profit. And the random garage bands who would jam loudly in the morning, annoying their neighbors and catching Sid’s eye until one of them eventually said, “Hey, you game? We need a drummer.”

Sid never backed down from an invitation to prove that he could do something, and he fucking loved the drums. So he’d come back in the afternoon, trading goggles and gloves for bandanas and drumsticks, and pretty soon he was playing local gigs while his classmates were still finishing their last year of high school. The gigs lead to local touring, then less local touring, but he still kept the sanitation job. He eventually made enough to move out of his parents’ house and rent a little place above a laundromat in town, because he was all about convenience.

When other people would’ve been entering their second year of college, Sid began investing money in the stock market, still getting the tips from the morning businessmen and deciding hey, why not? He found himself with some pretty solid investments, and by the time he was twenty-four he’d bought the club his band still played at two nights a week.

He renamed it The Crazy Cowboy, because he still had dreams sometimes about that fucking doll coming to life. Sid still wasn’t sure if the actual event was a dream or a reality, or where that doll even went. Hannah probably stole it.

He dropped the garbage route once he started turning a steady profit and decided to get his bartenders license instead. He had the freedom to book whatever gigs he wanted, turning away the hipsters and inviting the goth rockers. There were Slayer, Metallica and Nine Inch Nails cover bands, a grunge act that never grew out of flannel, and then some older classic rock for the biker clientele that would frequent the joint. 

No one could call his establishment “classy,” but class was overrated. It was popular, it was known and Sidney Timothy Phillips, who no one thought would amount to anything at all, had a successful business venture, capital, and investments. He worked behind the bar, paid his own bills and staff, did his own books, and still shredded it on the drums a few nights a week.

He had spent his adolescence dreaming of getting out of this town and suddenly he was thriving, not really caring that he’d still never seen the West Coast or the Pacific Ocean yet. He was doing something he was good at and having fun in the process.

And getting laid a ton, especially at road shows. He just could never really get a date. And it had felt weird, by age twenty-five, to realize that hey, maybe he wanted one.

So he’d spent the last half of his twenties trying to actually Find a Man rather than Find a Fuck. It was slim pickings in town, though, and online dating wasn’t all it was cracked up to be; the dates Sid _had_ been on fizzled out pretty damn quick. He still got laid a bunch, but things usually ended after the third or fourth time out, Sid being accused of being too distracted or not interested enough or too _mean_. What the fuck ever, he spoke his mind and didn’t give a damn.

Simple fact was, there was no one in this town that excited him. And the one person who had, however briefly, was long gone.  
_____________________

Andy Davis had moved away when he was six, but he was dumped right back into the same school district with Sid when they were in junior high. Andy was a little less dorky by then, but still a total dweeb. Sid never really talked to him until they got to high school and were forced together on some God-awful baby-caring project. And then he was fifteen and sitting in Andy’s room, with his stupid posters on the walls of mountain bikes and surfing and a map with pins in it for all the places he wanted to go.

“I’m totally going to school in California and I’m gonna be a visual effects person.”

“Why?” Sid had asked, bored and wondering if Andy actually _played_ the guitar that was in the corner of the room.

“Because they’re awesome! And I can create animation or like, like the dinosaurs in _Jurassic Park_ , I can _do_ that.”

“Yeah, okay, Davis. Send me a picture of your first dinosaur.”

“Whatever,” Andy had muttered and then they had to care for a crying fake baby and figure out what the fuck it wanted.

“I’m never having kids,” Sid had said after two hours of nonstop wailing.

“I’m having at least two,” Andy had replied happily. “Well. Adopting.”

Sid remembered his throat closing up at that, wanting to ask what he meant, afraid of the answer. Afraid of what that could _mean_ and why it made heat furl low in his belly.

He never did find out, but he also never saw Andy date any of the numerous preppy girls that hung around his locker.

He paid more attention to Andy Davis after that, from afar, and hated to admit that he liked everything he saw, even when he wanted to hate it. Sid liked all his interests, even liked his dumb dreams of California.

He wasn’t surprised when he found out Andy had gotten into the school he wanted, well after Sid had already dropped out. He was probably in Hollywood, making cool effects on movies. Sometimes Sid thought about seeing his name in the credits, but more often than not, he wondered if Andy had gotten his two adopted kids yet.

____________________

The night of his thirtieth birthday bash Sid gets wasted. His band plays, popular songs that came out during the milestone years of Sid’s life: ten, thirteen, sixteen, twenty-one, twenty-five. He’d put an invite up on Facebook a few weeks ago and it seemed like half the damn town had shown up. Barney was spending most of the night standing by the door to tell people it was a private party, but Sid noticed he was letting in anyone who arrived anyway. Sid didn’t care – he was high on life yet nostalgic for his past; leaving behind his twenties, a string of failed relationships that never really got started and the years that he turned things around, made something of himself. He’d wanted to actually be with someone by now. Had a vow to finally find someone and settle the fuck down by the time he turned thirty.

“Maybe I’m just an asshole!” he yells to Dave over the sound system blasting “Sweet Dreams” by Marilyn Manson.

“You’d like to think you are!” Dave yells back. “You’re all bark and no bite, Phillips!”

Sid isn’t sure if that makes him happy or disappointed. He knocks back another shot anyway and talks to a few people he vaguely remembers from shows until Dave pulls him back by his collar.

“Don’t look now, but I think you’ve got an admirer.”

Sid does indeed “look now,” following Dave’s gaze to the other end of the bar where – where someone who looks a lot like Andy Davis, even in the shadows of the club, stands, glass in hand, looking a little curiously at Sid.

Sid shakes Dave off and raises an eyebrow in Possibly Andy’s direction, tossing him a cocky smirk and sliding into a role he’s not really sure he’s even feeling tonight.

Possibly Andy smiles, shy and sudden, and yeah, Sid remembers that smile.

Fuck.

He makes his way over, dropping his hands on the bar in front of him. “Get you another?” Sid asks, nodding to Andy’s drink.

Now it’s time for Andy’s eyebrow to raise, slow and somehow sexy. Sid swallows.

“You pulling double duty tonight?”

“And what would that be?” Sid asks, ignoring whatever awful thing Andy’s drinking (looks like Bud Light) for an on tap local lager.

He looks back up to see Andy rolling his eyes, amusement evident as he waves at the giant-ass banner behind them. “Who works on their birthday?”

Sid shrugs. “I like it. Gives me something to do with my hands.”

He wants to drown himself in the gallons of liquor behind the bar. First time talking with this guy in over a decade and this is the shit he’s coming out with?

“Yeah, I remember you used to dismantle your toys like it was your job. Andy Davis,” he says, holding his hand out at his name.

Sid scoffs and slides him his drink, ignoring Andy’s offered hand even though he wants to take it, feel if his fingers are rough, if he has callouses because he still plays guitar. “I know who you are, dummy. What I don’t know is why you’re here.”

 _Why you’re in town to begin with_ , he leaves out.

Andy shrugs, withdrawing his hand easily and resting his fingers around the beer glass instead. “Someone posted a flyer on my Facebook wall, saying they’d be here tonight, so I figured I’d check it out too.”

That gives Sid absolutely zero information. He nearly sighs out loud until Andy looks up, biting his lip and adding, “And I moved back to town a few months ago, actually.”

“Oh?” Sid wipes down the bar, doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, my mom’s getting ready to move to Florida, retire from the school district. Molly’s in med school. I’ve been fixing up the old house, probably gonna just stay there.”

“Huh. You got a job?”

He peers up at Andy, catches the flush rising in his cheeks.

“I uh, well. So I got to school and realized what I thought I always wanted to do, I just. Didn’t. So I shifted to like, art. But – not a lot of jobs there, you know? Stayed out in California for a while after graduating, though, trying to sell shit but mostly working at an Ad agency to pay the bills. Anyway, uh, shit happened, I transferred to the Cleveland office.”

Sid wonders what shit exactly happened but stays quiet. “Too bad. Thought I’d see one of your dinosaurs.”

Andy’s eyes cut to Sid’s, sharp and surprised. “You remember that?”

Sid shifts on his feet, feeling too warm all of a sudden. “Yeah, well. Was dumb.”

Andy’s smile is slow and wide, with teeth. And fuck, Sid doesn’t really need that in his life. Not tonight. He blindly pours and knocks back another shot, slamming it on the bar.

He watches Andy swallow, tries not to imagine what he’s thinking as his eyes travel over Sid’s neck.

“And you?”

Sid blinks. “And me what?”

“Your turn to play thirteen years of catch up in thirty seconds,” Andy replies, grinning before downing half his beer.

Sid trails his fingers along the bar top, glancing at the people all there to celebrate his night. “You’re looking at it, man.”

“Huh?” Andy asks, looking around like he’s missing the joke.

Sid laughs. “I own this joint, man.”

Andy’s mouth drops open. “You… shit, really? The Crazy Cowboy,” Andy says, voice soft, filled with awe. “Shit, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Fuck you,” Sid replies without heat.

He doesn’t know when he started grinning but suddenly it’s turned right on Andy, their eyes meeting and holding.

Sid’s smile evens out as they stare at each other, an unperceivable shift, his mouth going dry. He hasn’t hooked up in – a while. Taking a break from the succession of one night stands that he can find on Grindr yet can’t get an actual date from Match.com.

He isn’t looking at a random groupie who seeks him out at a show and offers to buy him a drink after, though. He’s looking at Andrew Davis, who is and always has been anything but random.

“Uh,” Sid says, blinking away the moment. “So, yeah. I wear many hats. Also perform some nights.”

“Wow, uh. Cool. About your band. And your club. It’s—cool.”

Sid laughs, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, College Boy. Very succinct.”

Andy reaches out to push at Sid’s arm. “Shut up,” he slurs.

Sid gapes. “Oh my god, Andy Davis. Are you a _lightweight_?”

Andy frowns, blinking a few times. It’s – adorable. Sid wants to punch himself in the face. “Nope. All good here.”

“Right,” Sid snorts. “Try not to fall down, okay? I do have other people to talk to.”

He walks away before Andy can say anything else, needing a breather.

“So?” Dave says when he returns to the other end of the bar.

“So so.”

Dave rolls his eyes. “So, he into it?”

Sid sighs, staring out at his club, at the stage where people have decided to slow dance on now. “I have no idea what he’s into,” Sid admits.

He wishes the words didn’t sound so heavy on his tongue.

__________________

He tries to blow Andy off the rest of the night, but he sits there like some kicked puppy, clearly trying to not embarrass himself by falling off a bar stool. Sid eventually takes pity on him, taking the seat beside him.

“What bullshit brought you back here?” Sid asks. He’s had a few more drinks in him. He’s blitzed. He can ask these things.

“Huh?” Andy says, looking at him, eyes bleary.

“The shit that made you come back to this town, man. Transfer. What was it?”

Andy’s eyes are even bluer up close and Sid has no idea why they’re nearly up in one another’s faces, their forearms brushing on the bar.

“Dumped,” Andy says. “Was screwing my-- my supervisor. Jesus.”

“Ouch.”

“Five years.”

Sid’s eyes widen and he swallows hard. “Five years? That’s… more than screwing.”

“Yeah,” Andy sighs. “Michael was… an asshole.”

And there Sid has it. The thing he’d always assumed but had never really _wanted_ to assume.

“Sounds like it,” he says inanely. He has no idea who Michael is. “Guys suck.” That’s all Sid’s gonna give, it had better be enough. 

Andy’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Yeah,” he replies slowly, gaze darting downward. Sid can feel his eyes like a caress. “You’re not an asshole,” Andy says, pupils dark when he looks back up, his breath warm against Sid’s face. Why are they so close?

“You don’t know that,” Sid whispers. “Don’t know me.”

Andy shakes his head and Sid feels the hairs tickle against his cheek. Jesus Christ, he thinks, eyes drifting shut as Andy’s mouth brushes against his ear, almost innocently.

“You never let me,” Andy whispers back, sounding a little sad.

Sid has no idea what’s happening, he just knows he doesn’t want it to happen here.

“Come home with me,” he says.

“Yes.”

It’s not a question he ever thought he’d ask Andy Davis.

It’s not an answer he’d ever thought he’d receive.  
_________________________

Andy’s eyes are like a sea you could fall into and never want to leave. That’s the first thought Sid has when Andy’s eyes slide open the next morning. He’s not proud of it. His second thought is his head hurts. His third is his mouth feels like he’s been chewing cotton. His fourth is what the fuck did they do?

“What, uh?”

“Morning,” Andy says sleepily, _happily_ , throwing an arm around Sid’s waist and snuggling right up against Sid’s chest.

 _Snuggling_.

“Uh… what?” Sid asks again. Because… how is this even possible. How is this a reality he’s living.

“Sleep,” Andy groans. “Fuckin’ early.”

Sid tries to lift his head enough to look out his window but Andy’s weight pulls him back down. He’s pretty sure it’s barely dawn. He closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, pieces of the evening flowing back. They left the bar, got a cab, oh God, _made out_ in the cab. Sid knows a _lot_ of the cabbies, kind of has to as he calls them a ton to pick up people who can’t make it home. He wonders if it was a friend. Jesus.

Then they were stumbling out and up into Sid’s apartment, kissing the whole way. Andy’s mouth – Sid doesn’t remember completely but he thinks it was pretty incredible, hot and slick and plush against his own. Alright, maybe he does remember.. He thinks they just shoved each other down on the bed and dry humped until finally taking off their clothes and dry humping some more.

His dick twitches at the memory of Andy’s skin beneath his hands, slick with sweat, the smell of his cologne in the air, the smoothness of his body.

He reminds himself that same body is still on him now, naked and curved against him. He lets himself trail one hand down Andy’s back, delights in the soft moan it elicits, the way Andy presses into the touch.

“Did you,” Sid starts, then has to clear his throat. “Did you uh, was it good for you?”

Andy’s muscles bunch up beneath Sid’s hand, and then he’s pulling back and looking down at him. There are those damn eyes again. Sid could get used to those.

“Yeah,” Andy says, quietly, licking his red lips. They’re puffy, like someone was kissing them all night long. Sid was that someone. God. “You?”

“Fuck yeah,” Sid says, the memory of his orgasm coming back now, the way he clutched onto Andy’s hips, dug the pads of his fingers into the meat of his ass, spilling against Andy’s dick until Andy shook above him and did the same.

Andy’s smile is like sunshine. He leans down slowly, brushing his mouth over Sid’s in the barest hint of a kiss. “Good. Been a while for me.”

Sid nods, reaching up to drag a hand through his own hair. “Yeah, uh. Same.”

“Yeah?” Andy says, clearly expecting some Heartbreak Club camaraderie.

“Uh, no, not. Like that. I’ve never really had what you had. A lot of fucking and dating that goes nowhere.”

“Oh,” Andy says, eyes dimming.

Sid feels his hackles come up, wants to say something biting about judgment and Mr. Perfect College Boy but – but that’s Asshole Sid and he really hasn’t been Asshole Sid for years. Dave was right.

Besides, maybe he should stop assuming what Andy means when he talks.

He takes a deep breath. “Just turned thirty though,” Sid says, lips twitching. “Ready to try something new.”

The light comes back into Andy’s eyes, and he ducks his head, freckles giving way to a gorgeous crimson flush, before looking up again. “Yeah?”

“I hear there’s an awesome cover band playing at this hot club tonight.”

Andy laughs, dropping onto Sid’s chest, tangling their legs together, hands in Sid’s hair. “Is there? Have I heard of it?”

Sid shivers at the touch, drops his hands to Andy’s ass, palming slowly. “Perhaps. Wanna be my plus one?”

Andy groans and leans forward, dragging their mouths together. It’s gross and morning-breathy and Sid doesn’t do shit like this. Doesn’t lay around in bed the morning after, doesn’t cuddle, doesn’t make breakfast for someone.

He wants to do every single one of those things, right now.

“It’s a date,” Andy pants, sliding away from the kiss and burying his face in Sid’s neck.

“Yeah,” Sid replies, looking up at his ceiling, wondering again if this is really his life right now. He shakes his head, smirking, a giddy rush coursing through his body as his hands glide up Andy’s back. “Yeah, it is.”

The End.


End file.
